


Painless

by romanticalgirl



Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the game of life is hard to play / i'm going to lose it anyway<br/>the losing card i'll someday lay / so this is all i have to say, that<br/>suicide is painless<br/>it brings on many changes / and i can take or leave it if i please...<br/>                Suicide is Painless(Theme from M*A*S*H)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 3/29/01

Pacey woke slowly, blinking harsh sunlight from his eyes. His long, dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he turned onto his side, trying to escape the glare. “I’m up,” he mumbled, tossing the covers aside and dragging himself into a sitting position.

He scratched his stomach, the rough hair rasping in the quiet morning. Moving his hand up to rub his sore shoulder, he tilted his head to the side and inhaled, hoping for the smell of bacon. Nothing. Not even the unsinkable taste of Cheeri-Os. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and stretched, working the kinks out of his back.

“Andie?”

There was no answer, which didn’t really surprise him. Swinging his arms back behind him, he then brought them around in front of him, clapping his hands together. He stepped into his slippers, tugged his boxers higher on his hips and stumbled to the bedroom door.

Sunlight filtered through the open windows, warming the hallway and his bare skin. Moving slowly, enjoying the sensation, he walked past the bathroom and the entrance to the living room on his way to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, taking in the brightly painted room, the shining white appliances and the leftover scent of cinnamon. With a quick smile, he grabbed one of the rolls lying on a plate in the middle of the table and took a bite, wishing he'd been awake when it was fresh from the oven.

Grabbing a napkin to catch his crumbs, he quickly read her traditional morning note, skimming over the details of her day to find out when she’d be home, then he turned and headed for the living room, the television and a very nice, very long day of doing absolutely nothing.

The room was darker, the curtains drawn. His brow furrowed in puzzlement as he reached over to snap on the light. The cinnamon was drowned out by the fresh smell of copper, the white carpet Andie had persuaded him into buying soaked to a dark wine color. And Andie’s lifeless body lay sprawled in the middle of the floor.

 

~**~  
“I don’t know,” Pacey confessed, his voice thick with unshed tears. “I don’t know how long I stood there before I called.”

“Do you know what time your wife woke up this morning?”

“Her alarm is set for five. It’s always set for five.” He stared down at his hands only looking up as one of the police detectives draped a blanket around his bare shoulders. “She gets up, she makes herself breakfast, she writes me a note and she leaves. I was hoping she’d stay home today.” He managed a weak smile, trembling with effort. “It’s our anniversary.”

“What does your wife do?”

“Nothing anymore.” The laughter was completely inappropriate, but he was helpless to stop it. “Except lie there and look at me.” The tears came of their own accord and he was just as helpless to stop them. “She’s...she’s the principal of the local high school.”

“And why would she be working on a Saturday, Mr. Witter?”

“Saturdays she did community service. My wife is...was...she liked to be involved. It was what she excelled at.” He looked up at the officer questioning him and met his cool gaze. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“We’ve been married for five years. We dated in high school, went our separate ways and then we hooked up again after she got out of college. Just friends, hanging around. And one day I realized that all those old feelings, the ones I thought had disappeared? Well, they came back. Only different. Stronger. Because she was different. Only...only not so much as I thought.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Witter?”

“Andie’s been on medication the entire time I’ve known her. She was on anti-depressants. And for a while, I think she was on something stronger...different. Anti-psychotics or something. Her brother was killed and her mother suffered from something.” He shook his head, hating that he no longer seemed to know the simplest of answers. “She suffered from depression and they had her on a variety of medications to regulate that.”

“Was she still taking them regularly?”

“As far as I knew.” He shook his head sending another cascade of tears from his eyes. “She’d been acting normally. There was nothing wrong that I could tell.” He rubbed his eyes angrily. “I should have been able to tell, shouldn’t I?”

“Pacey?”

Pacey looked up as Jack burst in through the door, pushing aside a police officer. He knelt in front of his friend and looked at him, concern and disbelief in his eyes. “Hey Jack.”

“Pacey? I heard on the scanner that something was going on. What happened? I got the impression that...”

“Andie’s dead.” He said the words, refused to believe them. “She’s lying in there in the living room, her blood all over the carpet. She...she slit her wrists and just lay there bleeding.” Losing control, Pacey let himself collapse, feeling Jack’s arms catch him. “I...I didn’t know, Jack,” he sobbed. “I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Jack stroked Pacey’s hair, his eyes searching for the officer in charge. “I know, Pace.” Disentangling himself from his brother-in-law, he got to his feet, leaving Pacey with one of the female officers, who guided him into toward the counter to pour him some coffee. Jack walked over to the lead officer and glanced at the pad in his hand. “What’s going on?”

“There’s not much to tell, Jack. He woke up, came into the kitchen, picked up a cinnamon roll, walked into the living room and found your sister.”

“What about her? Any clues? Notes?” He glanced through the notes the other officer had written and rubbed his forehead. “I’m assuming it was a suicide, from what I heard. Is there anything?”

“The only note she left was one telling Pacey that she had some work to do this afternoon and she’d see him for dinner, which apparently he’d promised to cook.” He shrugged. “I wish I could tell you more. But I think he’s likely to have more answers than I do. And he doesn’t seem to have any.”

Jack nodded and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts. “I’m going to need to take some time off, I think. I don’t know that he’s going to handle this well.”

“Do what you need to.”

“Except now is not a good time, right?” Jack smirked. “Since we have our own little crisis downtown.”

“Family comes first, Jack. We know that.”

“Except when you’re a cop, everyone’s family.” He glanced over the other officer’s shoulder into the living room, seeing nothing but shadows of the crew working the room. “Give me a couple of days?”

“Whatever you need.” The officer walked away and Jack forced his body in the direction of Pacey. He was slumped against the counter, the coffee cup dangling loosely in his hand.

“I’ll take over, Marjorie.”

“Thanks, Jack.” She gave him a quick salute, despite his lack of uniform, and left the two of them alone. Pacey didn’t look up at him, didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Finally, Jack took the cup from his hand.

“Do you have someplace to stay?”

“No. Yes.” He shook his head. “I have a house. Only it’s not exactly the most comforting place right now.”

“Why don’t you stay at my place? I’m rarely home, and you could feed the cat.”

“I don’t know, Jack.” His blue eyes were dull, deadened, making Jack think of the image of what his sister’s eyes must look like. “I have this overwhelming urge to run away. Is that wrong?”

“Where would you run to?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere but here and these goddamn remnants of a life that I didn’t know I no longer had when I woke up this morning.” He held back tears, angry ones this time. “What the fuck was she thinking, Jack? We were fucking happy. I mean, it was our goddamn anniversary and she pulls this shit.” Pacey pushed away from the counter, pacing the large kitchen, clutching the blanket around his shoulders. “And don’t tell me that I’m being unreasonable or stupid here, because my goddamn fucking wife is lying in the fucking living room in a pool of her own blood because...” He lost control once more and sank to his knees, burying his head in his hands. Jack knelt down beside him and hugged him once more, rocking him back and forth.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He took a deep breath. “And it’s not your fault.”

“You don’t fucking know that,” he sobbed quietly.

“I do. Because I know that Andie loved you and I know that she would never do something like this to hurt you. Whatever it was, Pace, it was too big for her to handle and she didn’t know how to deal with it.”

“She’s been fine.”

“We thought so. I thought so.” He pulled back and managed to give Pacey a weak smile. “But you can’t always tell what she was thinking. And she’s not always honest about stuff like that.”

“She hadn’t dyed her hair,” Pacey laughed sadly. “She’s supposed to give me clues. I mean,” he held out the note he’d had clutched in his hand. “Pacey, I can’t wait until tonight. I made you your favorite breakfast so that I can be sure you’ll give me what I want for dinner. I love you. Happy anniversary, Andie.” He repeated the written words flatly, burned into his memory. “How does something like that lead you into the living room with a fucking paring knife so you can slit your wrists?”

“We’ll figure it out somehow, Pace. But right now, I think you need to get out of here. Out of the house, away from the memories.” He helped him stand up and guided him toward the hallway, hoping the other officers had closed the door to the living room. “Go get dressed, pack a few things and I’ll take you to my place.”

Pacey’s body moved, obviously on some sort of autopilot. “Changing where I’m sleeping isn’t going to get her out of my head, Jack. Nothing’s ever going to get the sight of her out of my head.”


	2. Chapter 2

Pacey stared at the pale blue walls of Jack’s bedroom and tried not to think. Thinking was overrated. Thinking led to remembering or worse, forgetting until he remembered something else. Rolling onto his back, he fixed his gaze on the pattern of the ceiling, trying to lose himself in the swirls of paint.

“You okay?”

He shook his head, “Not in the slightest.”

“Will you be okay by yourself tonight? I’ll stay if you want me to, but I think you need to get some sleep.” Jack moved into the room and sat next to Pacey. “And I’m afraid if I’m here, that isn’t going to happen.”

“Why?” Pacey managed to raise himself up onto one elbow and gave Jack a long look. “You think you wouldn’t be able to resist me and my manly charms?”

“Something like that.” Jack gave him a little shove, sending him back onto the bed. “We’ll want to talk. We’ll need to talk and I don’t think either of us is ready to talk about it yet. I’m not ready.” He looked toward the window then stood up, feet following his gaze. “I haven’t even gotten around to realizing that it’s all real yet.”

“I know the feeling.”

Jack leaned against the glass, staring down at the street, at nothing. “I can’t even feel yet, Pace. Is that bad? Wrong? I mean, I’m her brother, right? I should be all agonized and grieving. I shouldn’t be functioning, should I? I should be...I should be something other than this.”

Pacey forced himself off the bed and walked up behind Jack, leaning his head between the other man’s shoulder blades, resting against the solidness of him. “I keep thinking that if I think about it, if I try and deal with it, with reality, then I’ll come up against the horrifying conclusion that I knew this was going to happen and just ignored all the signs. And right now, I don’t think I can live with that.”

Jack nodded. “I keep wanting to ask why.”

“I keep wanting to strangle something.” Pacey gave a hollow laugh. “Jesus. What a pair.” He moved away from Jack and turned back toward the bed. “You should go. If you stay, I’m likely to break down again, and I don’t know that that’s going to be healthy for either of us.”

“You need someone...”

“No.” Pacey shook his head, all the while staring down at the floor. “No. Right now, I need to be alone with everything I’m thinking to keep the thought of her out of my head. And with you here, I can’t do that. I just...I want to be alone, Jack.”

Jack nodded and grabbed his jacket off the chair it was draped across. “I left Daniel’s number by the phone. Call. No matter what.”

“If I need you, I’ll call.” Pacey listened as he left the room, breathing a little easier once the front door shut softly and he was alone. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to endure the image of Andie’s lifeless body that seemed etched into his mind, burned onto his retinas. His wife, his lover, his friend -- nothing more now than a memory overshadowed by the very harsh reality of death.

Pacey headed for the kitchen and grabbed the six-pack of beer in the refrigerator. Pulling one free, he snapped it open and carried it and the rest toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind him in a vain effort to lock the world outside his door.

 

~**~  
Jack knocked on the apartment door, leaning against the cool wood until he heard the lock turn. Pulling back, he didn’t even try to smile as the door opened. “I know we agreed that this is too fucking dangerous, and I know that I’m putting both of us at risk, but I need you tonight.”

“I know.”

“So, I’m really hoping that instead of slamming the door shut in my face, you’ll let me come in and lean on you for a couple of hours.”

“Just a couple of hours?”

“I don’t want to push my luck.” As he raised his eyes, he met the open, compassionate gaze of his lover, Daniel. “Besides, I know you’ve been on duty all day.”

“Get in here, McPhee.”

Jack smiled his thanks and moved into the living room, closing the door behind him. He leaned back against it, almost afraid to go any further. “When I saw you this morning...” he paused and took a deep breath. “I almost went to you instead of Pacey. I wanted to lose myself in your arms.”

Daniel nodded, taking a step toward him. “Somehow I think that your hugging the officer in charge might have given the game away.” He moved even closer. “Of course now, we don’t have an audience.”

“I just...” Jack looked at him, his eyes dark with trepidation. “I need you tonight, Daniel. And I need you for so much, so maybe we should just lay out the ground rules before we get started so that I know how much I’m allowed to need you.”

Daniel closed the remaining distance between them, pulling Jack into his arms, holding him tight against his body. “Need me as much as you want, Jack. As much as I need you.” He buried his lips against his neck, inhaling the sharp scent of Jack’s skin. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

One of Jack’s hands curved around Daniel’s neck, holding his lips to his skin, holding him against him, feeling the hardness of his body. The other settled in the small of his back, pressing him even closer. “Dan...”

Daniel turned his head and found Jack’s lips with his own, invading his open mouth with an eager tongue. Jack let himself fall back toward the door, pulling Daniel with him, on top of him so that the pressure between them increased. Without watchers, without restrictions, Daniel’s hands moved to Jack’s shirt, unbuttoning it, freeing him from it. Smooth strong arms freed from too thick material, his firm muscular chest like a divining rod leading down to the aching arousal that strained toward him.

Jack closed his eyes as hands he’d denied himself too long toured his body, memorizing the feel of them. Daniel’s lips traveled south with his hands, kissing the hard-planed surface as he sank down to the floor, unbuckling Jack’s jeans with a skill borne of practice. Moaning as the fabric was eased away from his skin, Jack grabbed the doorknob for support as Daniel’s mouth closed around his cock, sucking lightly along the length of the partially erect flesh.

“God...” Jack sighed, thrusting forward, meeting the warm cavern with abandon. One of Daniel’s hands continued to move the denim down Jack’s body while the other guided each stroke, bringing the velvet flesh to his eager tongue. Feeling his body tremble, the rush of blood leaving him lightheaded, Jack forced himself to push Daniel away, needing to prolong the experience.

Daniel stay on his knees, staring up at Jack. Silence was heavy in the room as Jack met his gaze evenly, not speaking. Finally Daniel’s hands moved, untying Jack’s shoes and easing him out of the rest of his clothes until he was completely naked. Once that was done, Jack helped the other man to his feet and tilted his head toward the bedroom.

The responding nod was almost imperceptible as Daniel led the way, heat burning through him as he felt Jack’s eyes sweep over his body. He tugged his shirt over his head as he walked, tossing it to the side before unfastening his jeans. By the time they reached the bedroom, all he had left to do was slip his jeans and boxers to the floor. Stepping out of them, Daniel turned to look at Jack, his body responding with a throbbing ache.

Jack stood in the doorway, his arms braced on either side of the framework, the light silhouetting him. His cock was harder than Daniel had ever seen it, nearly touching his stomach. Soft filters of the lamp behind him sent shadows dancing over Jack’s body. “I want to make love to you, Daniel.”

“I had that impression.” He was surprised at the softness of his voice, the hunger, the need.

“I don’t think you understand.” Jack stepped into the room, his change in posture no less dramatic. Jack walked directly up to the other man, grabbing his hips and pulling him against him, feeling the heated friction of their erections tight against one another. “Every time we’ve made love,” Jack moved his head and let his breath brush against Daniel’s earlobe, “you’ve made love to me. You’ve made me feel so good. You’ve made me feel like there’s nothing in the world better than your cock inside me.” Daniel moaned and thrust against Jack’s body. “But tonight I’m feeling reckless and dangerous and I want to be buried inside you.”

Their bodies continued moving, rubbing against one another, stroking without hands, not needing anything more than the smooth feel of flesh. Daniel looked into Jack’s eyes searching them for something. “I told you that you could have me whatever way you needed me, Jack. Just promise me that you’re being honest about making love to me. I don’t want to turn over and find out you just fucked me because you lost your sister today.”

Jack’s hand slipped between them and grasped Daniel’s cock lightly, running his thumb over the tip. “I want to fuck you because my sister died today and I’m still alive and I’ve got all this blood and hurt and anger and sadness rushing through me and I need to expel it from my body.” He moved his head so the words were whispered against Daniel’s lips. “It’s not the only reason, but for right now, I need to be in control of something.”

Daniel swallowed the words along with Jack’s breath. His own hand joined Jack’s between them, copying the other man’s movements until Jack closed his eyes and sucked in air. Stepping back, Daniel released him and moved to the side of the bed, opening the drawer of the bedside table. “You’re welcome to try and control me.”

Jack smiled and moved closer, his body eager, his eyes bright and his smile more than a little hungry.


	3. Chapter 3

He awoke with a start, coughing and choking, forcing water from his mouth and lungs. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he forced the rest of the bath water from his body, not even noticing that he was trembling. Inhaling deeply, Pacey rubbed his hands vigorously over his face, trying to wash away the day, his dream and the horrible feeling that seemed to have invaded him.

"Fuck." He whispered the word, his throat hoarse. Something brushed his skin and he reached for the beer bottle he’d dropped in the water. Setting it beside the five other empty ones on the toilet seat lid, he leaned forward and fished around for the bathtub plug.

He’d slept. At least he assumed that the images that had flickered through his mind had been bad dreams and not his imagination running away with him. Andie’s blood had lapped at his body, touching him like fingers, begging him to hold her, catch her. He’d heard her voice, heard her cry out. Heard everything he hadn’t heard that morning.

It had been less than twelve hours.

He sat in the bath until the beer stained water had all drained away, looking down at his hands. The fingers were puckered and wrinkled from exposure to the water, his skin seemed unnaturally white. As the last drops gurgled away, Pacey forced himself to his feet, stepping carefully out of the tub.

He seemed wrong in the mirror as he stared at himself, not recognizing anything behind the blue of his eyes. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist and knotted it before turning to the door. The rest of the world was waiting out there, and not even the prospect of Jack’s bed seemed worth opening it for.

Turning around, he leaned against the door instead, afraid to close his eyes. Instead, he stared at the shower rod, the simple black and white patterned curtain that hung from it. It would all be so easy. Everything could be swift and simple and over in a matter of mere moments. He could hang himself. He dropped his eyes to the empty beer bottles. He could smash one of those and slit his throat, his wrists. He could let his life drip out of him like some sort of torture, just the constant sound of red drops hitting the burnished white of the tile.

All so easy.

Shaking his head, Pacey felt behind him for the doorknob and wrenched it open, rushing from the small room. He didn't know whose ghosts were chasing him suddenly, his own or Andie’s. He didn’t bother to turn off the light, simply slammed the door shut, listening to the harsh acoustics as the sound reverberated in the small room.

The bedroom was darker, though not dark. None of the harsh clinical light that seemed to permeate bathrooms. He stared at the door he’d just closed, almost afraid to blink, as if there were some sort of demon behind it, something tangible that could twist the handle as easily as he could.

Unknotting the towel, he let it fall to the floor, observing himself in disinterest. Out here his skin seemed to fit him again, didn’t seem to be so tight, so loose, so wrong. Finally allowing his eyes to close, he took another deep breath and turned around. If there was something more than a ghost in the bathroom, perhaps it could take him by surprise and free him from whatever was holding him back, holding his emotions in check.

Six beers should have given him the freedom to lose control, should have done something more than sent him sinking into a tubful of lukewarm water. He shook his head and forced his eyes open, wondering why it took so much effort now.

He fell back onto the bed, feeling cool air on his body, cool sheets at his back. He lay there, staring at the ceiling once more. The swirls of paint hadn’t changed. Nothing had changed, even though his life had been turned upside down. He let his eyes drift closed, not wanting to see anymore, think anymore. The night air was cool, the room dark enough, and maybe, just maybe, the beer would keep Andie’s eyes from haunting his sleep.

 

~**~  
Jack rested his head against the window, his breath making clouds against the cold glass. "I’d ask what’s wrong, but I have a feeling I know the answer."

He didn’t turn at Daniel’s words, didn’t know if he could face anyone right now, didn’t know if he wanted to show his tears. "It’s that," he admitted. "Maybe more."

"Nothing’s going to happen." Daniel slid off the bed and moved closer to Jack, not touching him, but close enough to reassure him of his presence. "Don’t borrow trouble."

"How can I not when I’m here with you?" Jack’s voice was soft, broken. "I need you on so many levels, and the only one I can have you on is the least satisfying. Not to mention the least private. And now, when I need you the most..."

"I’m right here, Jack."

"And will you be right beside me at my sister’s funeral?"

"Yes."

"Right. Standing there in your uniform. And then you’ll salute me or shake my hand, maybe even rest your other hand on my shoulder before you turn around and walk away, back to the squad car."

"What would you prefer, Jack? That I hug you in front of all your friends, none of whom know about us? That I hold you while you cry over her death while the rest of our department looks on?"

"No." Jack stiffened, hurt and angry from the words. "I don’t want anything more from you."

"I would love to be there at night for you. I would love to hold you through the dark hours, Jack."

"You sound like a fucking soap opera."

"Right. Well, I’m sorry that gay relationships are hard, Jack. And I’m sorry that you picked a job where being gay makes it even harder. And I’m especially sorry that you had the unfortunate bad luck to fall in love with me." Daniel moved away, his warmth no longer comforting.

"That’s not what I said..."

"Oh, and I supposed that while I’m at it, I should apologize for the witch hunt that’s currently circulating around the station and for the Mayor being a fucked up homophobe. Since I’m pretty sure that’s all my fault too."

"Daniel." Jack turned and offered his hand, hating the tension that filled the room, tension he’d brought into it. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t be, Jack." He faced his lover, his face wounded. "Because I haven’t gotten around to apologizing for the part I played in your sister’s death."

Jack froze in his forward motion, no longer moving toward Daniel. "Fuck you." He turned abruptly, gathering up his clothes on his way to the front door. "I’m sorry if my sister’s death is just another burden you’re having to bear, another bitch you’re having to listen to." He shoved his legs into his jeans, his movements as harsh as his voice. "I’m really sorry if I’ve put your life out of whack right along with mine, Daniel."

"Damn it, Jack. Don’t..."

"No. You don’t." He pulled his shirt on and shook his head. "I fucked up your life when I fell for you. Got it. And we're both screwed because we’re gay and we’re hot for each other and we both wear a badge. Well, I’ll tell you what, at least your neck and career aren’t going to be the first ones on the chopping block when the axe falls, Daniel."

"Don’t go there."

Jack didn’t heed the warning, No longer seemed to care. "Especially since your wife and daughter have no idea how many times a week you’re fucking me, right?"

Daniel didn’t say a word as the door slammed behind Jack, didn’t think of anything beyond gathering his things and leaving the apartment that belonged to his sister, heading back home after another double shift at work.

~**~  
Jack stood in the door of his bedroom for a long time, staring at Pacey. He was vulnerable in his sleep, but obviously unafraid. He slept sprawled and spread out, unconscious of his nakedness. His body gleamed in the moonlight, taunted and tantalized. Jack inched closer, wondering absently if he should feel guilty for watching his brother-in-law so closely, so intimately.

Pacey shifted slightly, his hand moving to rub against the inside of his thigh, scratching the dark hairs that covered his legs. Jack stood beside the bed, wondering where all his emotions were. Even the anger and loss of arguing with Daniel seemed stilted and rehearsed, unreal.

He’d had a huge crush on Pacey in high school and college, but had never acted on it. Not because he’d thought so much about Pacey’s refusal. As heterosexual as Pacey seemed, Jack got the impression he wasn’t close-minded, but because he liked Pacey. He liked having a friend he could laugh and talk with, tease and joke with.

Staring down at him now, Jack vaguely remembered those nights in his bedroom, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he imagined Pacey’s mouth around him, imagined Pacey’s cock in his mouth, imagined writhing against him in sweaty abandon, pressing him against the walls of the shower, their cocks hard against one others. He felt his body respond and his hand reached down, lightly brushing the object of his interest, one finger running over the smooth tip.

That felt real.

Pacey made a soft noise in his sleep, turning away from Jack’s touch. With a sigh that made no sound, Jack stepped away, grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed. He adjusted it over Pacey’s nude body; unable to stop his fingers from lingering just slightly against Pacey’s shoulders.

Temptation covered, Jack slipped off his jeans and moved to the other side of the bed, lying down on the sheets, mussed and warm from Pacey’s body. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering what Andie had seen in the ceiling as she died.


	4. Chapter 4

Warm skin, hair smelling of sunlight and heat, the soft beat of another heart. Pacey raised his hand and stroked back the soft strands, trying to quiet the silent whisper of tears. He felt everything suddenly. The scratchiness of the blanket that had been draped over him during the night, the breeze that pushed the air conditioning around the bedroom, the puffs of breath that danced across his chest.

His fingers tightened slightly, applying more pressure as he stroked the short hair. “You don’t have to be so quiet.” He didn’t recognize his voice. It was rough and coarse, deeper than he remembered. When had he changed? Yesterday morning? Or had it happened overnight?

“I...” Jack gave up on responding, attempting to pull away. Pacey refused to let him, holding him against him.

“I don’t need to know your reasons, Jack. Just cry.” His voice had softened, back to its normal pitch and timbre. “Eventually, I imagine I’ll do the same. Consider this payment in advance for the rent of your shoulder.”

“I’m not crying about Andie,” Jack’s voice was tortured, shame lacing it. “I can’t cry about her yet.”

“What’s wrong?”

Jack pulled away as Pacey released him, settling back against the headboard. Pacey shifted as well, adjusting the blanket that lay low on his hips as he did so. Jack’s eyes were dark, tears glistening. “Do you know you’ve seen me cry almost more than anyone else in the world?”

“I’ll note that in my personal record book.” Pacey gave him a small grin. “But hedging around the subject isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

“Laughing might. You can make me laugh, Pacey.” His eyes pleaded, wanting something more to shine from them.

“About the only laughter I have in me is bitter, Jack.” Pacey reached over and grabbed his brother-in-law’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Please tell me? I could use someone else’s problems right now. I don’t particularly want to face up to my own.” When Jack didn’t say anything, Pacey sighed. “We could start with how you ended up in bed with me instead of whoever it was you went to see last night.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Jack...”

He shook his head and slid off the bed, grabbing for his jeans. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Right. But you climbed in here with me last night; you woke up crying on my chest. That’s fine. I don’t mind being there for you, but it’s not going to get any better if you don’t talk about it.”

“All right, Pace. Why don’t you tell me how you feel about the fact that you found your wife dead on your living room floor yesterday morning.” They both froze as the cold words filled the room. Pacey swallowed, his face still as his blue eyes held Jack’s. “I’m sorry.”

“Everybody’s sorry.” Pacey got off the bed, wrapping the blanket around his waist. Grabbing his bag from where he’d left it beside the bed the night before, he headed for the bathroom.

“Pacey.”

He turned and met Jack’s gaze once more, only this time there was nothing in his eyes. No anger, no hurt, no hate. “I’m going to take a shower. And then I’m going to get out of your hair.”

 

~**~  
Jen looked up from her desk as her office door opened. “What is it, Beth?”

“There’s someone here to see you.” Beth shrugged.

“Someone with an appointment?” She gave her secretary a half smile. “Or someone you knew I’d refuse over the intercom and just thought I should see.”

“You need to see him.”

“I do?”

“Quickly. Because I don’t know how well some of your other clients might take to seeing him sitting there in the waiting room.” Beth tilted her head slightly, beckoning Jen to look out into the lobby. Rising from her seat, Jen walked over to the door and glanced past the younger girl.

“Ah.”

“Should I send him in?”

“Go ahead. And you might want to cancel my next appointment if you can. It’s just a meeting with Henderson, so see if you can reschedule for this afternoon, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jen moved back behind her desk, putting some space between her and her next client. When he walked in the door, she managed a smile, wondering if she might actually seem relaxed and calm about the whole situation if she pretended she was someone else. Staying on her feet, she nodded as he closed the door behind him. “Hello, Officer.”

“Ms. Lindley.”

“And what can I do for you this morning?” She smiled thinly.

“It’s business, Jen.”

“It’s business? Then it’s Ms. Lindley.” She sat down, not inviting him to do the same. “And I don’t know that I have anything to say to you. My clients are confidential, as are all their records.” She picked up her letter opener, smoothing her thumb over the sharp tip. “We’ve been over this before.”

“It’s not that kind of business.” The officer shifted slightly in his seat, having followed her lead. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to pull off her cool nonchalance. “We’re investigating a death. An apparent suicide. However, there are a few things that we have to check out, since some information has come to light in the wake of her death.”

“A client of mine?”

“No. Apparently...apparently a friend.”

Jen raised an eyebrow curiously. “What exactly are you talking about?”

“Andie Witter killed herself yesterday.”

Jen froze, her eyes wide. “What?”

“I’m sure that you’d have rather heard the news from a friend, but there was something...” he paused. “Mrs. Witter had one of your business cards in her hand when she died.”

“I’m a psychiatrist. It’s not that unusual.”

“Yet nothing in Mrs. Witter’s affects indicates that she was a client of yours.”

“As you said, she was a friend. Perhaps she just needed someone to talk to.”

“If she was a friend, wouldn’t she have expected you to be at home on a Saturday morning? Why would she have tried to call your office.”

“I don’t know.” Jen gave him a cold glance. “Perhaps she tried my house and, finding no one there, decided to call my office.”

“Were you not home on Saturday morning?”

“No. Unfortunately, I’d spent the night before up with a very sick daughter. And in the morning, since her illness didn’t seem to be getting any better, I took her to her doctor’s office.” Her eyes were brittle. “Which you would know if you ever bothered to come home anymore.”

Daniel sat across from his wife, guilt shadowing his eyes. “I’ve been working a lot.”

“You’ve been fucking a lot, Daniel.” Her lips were thin as she looked away. “My question is simply who it is this time. And why you even bother to stay married to me.”

“We have a two year old daughter.”

“So now would be the perfect time for you to leave.” Jen stood up, effectively dismissing him from her office as well. “Before she’s old enough to have it be traumatic. That’s my professional opinion as well, by the way.”

“Andie didn’t call you?”

“No. Andie didn’t call me. There wasn’t a message at the house, and there wasn’t a message here.” She gestured to the stack of pink papers that adorned her desk. “Don’t you think that I would have tried to reach someone? Called Pacey? Or hell, Jack for that matter?” She nearly smiled as her husband flinched as she mentioned Jack’s name. “How is Jack?”

“Handling it.”

“Badly, I would imagine. Especially with so much else on his plate.” Jen walked around her desk to the door and stood there, her hand on the knob. “If anything comes to light in regards to Mrs. Witter, I’ll certainly give you a call. Officer.”

Daniel stood up and walked toward her, his gaze traveling over her. She wore a black suit and a cream silk shirt underneath it, cut just low enough to hint at the luscious curves she hid beneath. “I’ve missed you, Jen.”

“Fuck you, honey.”

He caught her hand before she could open the door and pinned her to it, caressing her cheek with his free hand. “You want to?” He drawled the words, sex far more of a weapon between them than the gun holstered at his hip.

“I don’t know where you’ve been.” She felt the heat rising in her, but refused to acknowledge it. “Of course, that’s pretty much par for the course with you, isn’t it?”

Daniel lowered his lips to the curve of her neck, nibbling at the succulent skin, making his way up to her earlobe. “I’ve been working. Nothing more than that.” He whispered the words, hot breath like an elixir in her veins. “I want you so bad. I’ve missed you.”

Jen’s hands curled into fists, the ache inside her warring with the violence he always seemed to inspire in her. “Go away, Daniel.”

“I’ll tell you the truth,” he promised softly. “I’ll tell you what he did to me, what it felt like. And you can even call out his name if you want.” His tongue traced the shell of her ear and he smiled to himself as her body shivered.

Jen hated the weakness, hated her complete inability to resist. One leg wound around both of his, pulling his cock against her body, feeling the hardness press tight between her thighs. Daniel held her against the door, grinding against her body, whispering the words he knew she wanted to hear, no matter how much she denied it.

And as he lifted her skirt, aching to push aside the lacy panties she wore, he didn’t even care as she called out Jack’s name.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack looked up from his cup of coffee as Pacey walked into the room. Without speaking, he pushed another cup across the table.

“Thank you.”

He nodded and looked back at his own cup. Grabbing a spoon off the table, he stirred the dark liquid. “So...you’re going?”

“Yeah. I don’t think that it’s going to be good for either of us if I stay here.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Home.” Pacey sat down across from Jack and took a drink.

Jack’s eyes jerked up to Pacey’s, and he held the other man’s gaze. “Home?”

“Not…not home. Capeside.” His voice was quiet. “Your parents are buried there, I figured that Andie would…” He stopped, overwhelmed by thought but not emotion. “She’d probably want to be buried there.”

Jack nodded and picked up his cup. “And you don’t feel comfortable here.”

“I think you’ve got a lot of stuff on your mind, Jack. And I don’t think I’m helping you, or myself, by hanging around here.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because at some point both of us are going to break, Jack. And I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure that I’m the last person you’re going to want as support. Besides, I think you need something more than I can give you.”

“And you think that, why?” Jack’s face hardened with anger. “Because you woke up this morning and we were lying in the same bed? What’s the matter, Pacey? Are you afraid that I’m going to be unable to control myself around you?”

“Fuck you, Jack.” Pacey stood up.

“You want to?” Jack’s voice was soft and seductive, laced with innuendo. “Is that what you want?” He stood up and walked toward his brother-in-law, the subtle movements of his body telegraphing his intentions. Pacey stood still as he approached, his face set. “You think that’s what I want, right? You think I want to defile my little sister’s memory by sliding my dick up your ass?”

Pacey’s fist connected before either of them knew he’d swung. Jack just stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and remorse. Without a word, Pacey grabbed his duffel bag from the floor and headed for the front door, leaving Jack alone in the silence.

 

~**~  
Jen stared at herself in her bathroom mirror, hating what she saw. Her blonde hair was in complete disarray, her skirt still wrapped around her hips where Daniel’s hands had shoved it up her body. There were teeth marks on her neck, dark red and deep. “You’re a bigger fucking nutcase than any of your clients,” she told herself as she smoothed her skirt down.

Running a brush through her hair, she refused to let the tears that stood in her eyes fall. She wanted nothing more than to walk away from her marriage; from the very twisted reality she’d let herself sink into.

“Jen?”

“In here, Beth.” She grabbed a scarf from the hook behind the door and tied it around her neck, fashionably hiding the marks. “What?”

“He’s gone. But Jack McPhee is on the line.”

“Jack?” She half whispered the word, guilt rushing through her. “I’ll take it.”

“And I rescheduled that talk with Henderson for you. And John Simpson is coming in later this afternoon? He said something about lunch?”

“Order Chinese take out right after he gets here.”

“Sure thing.” Beth walked out of the office as Jen headed for the phone.

Settling in her chair, she took a deep breath before picking it up. “Jennifer Lindley.”

“Hey, Jen.”

“Jack.” Her voice was soft as she smiled. “I’m so very sorry about Andie.”

“Can I see you?”

Her heart jumped, pounding in her chest. “Here? At the office? Or personally? I mean…”

“Tonight. I just need…I need a friend, Jen.” His voice broke. “I get off work at seven. Dinner?”

“Mario’s?”

“Of course.” He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back to normal. “Thanks, Jen.”

She nodded as she heard him hang up. She felt the tears gathering in her eyes as she forced herself to hang up the receiver.

~**~  
Pacey stared at the house in front of him, willing himself to get out of the car, to go inside. It was his house, his home. But the lingering scent of blood just seemed to permeate the air.

Swallowing hard, he turned the key, bringing the engine to life. Whatever he needed in Capeside, he could buy or borrow. If he walked inside those walls now, he’d never leave. He backed slowly down the driveway, not looking back.

He’d go home. Home before college and Andie and marriage and everything. Home before he’d moved to Washington DC and made a life for himself. Back home to memories that haunted him, and memories that he cherished.

The buzz of the radio kept him company as he headed for the train station, trying not to glance in his rear view mirror.

~**~  
Jack stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, not seeing the planes of his face, his tanned skin or the dark stubble that hid the slight discoloration that was beginning to form where Pacey had punched him. He didn’t see anything except a pair of tortured, gray eyes looking for answers.

He didn’t know why. His own mind had never provided him with answers before. Never once in his life had he ever accepted the responsibility for any emotion. It had always been easy for him to be the sane one in his family, just revert into himself and pretend that nothing got to him. Easy when your mother and sister are falling apart at the seams and your father is a cold, emotionless bastard. Easy.

And when you want to admit something and can’t find the words, you manage to create a situation that you know will bring around the same end result. He’d used Pacey that day so many years ago in English class and, even worse, let Pacey take the blame for it. He hadn’t really had to admit anything, simply let the rest of the world assume from the poem, from the rumor. Even the confrontation with his father had been easy. The word was out, it was simply denying the denial.

Easy.

But nothing about this was easy. Everyone expected him to hurt, to feel. Everyone expected him to lose control, break down, be overcome by some threat of emotion. Staring into his eyes in the bathroom mirror, he saw nothing. No hurt, no pain, no anger.

Nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey gorgeous, come here often?”

Jen smiled up at Jack as he stood over her. “Only when I’m looking for a really hot guy to hook up with. Know any?”

He kissed her cheek and sat down opposite her. “If only I did.”

“I ordered for us.” She smiled. “I figured you wanted the usual.”

“Something familiar would be comforting.” Jack reached over and squeezed her hand. “Much like you.”

“I don’t know if I appreciate that,” she smiled. “But I’ll thank you anyway.”

“It was meant much more complimentary than it sounded,” he assured her. “So, you’re the shrink. How should we do this?”

“Do this?”

“Begin the conversation that I know you’re dying to have with me.”

“Well, traditionally, I would have to charge you quite a lot of money then you’d have to hedge around the subject for several years before we finally had a breakthrough when you finally started to trust me.”

“Sounds time consuming.”

“It is. And profitable.” She pulled out her datebook. “So, should I schedule you in for the next year or so? How’s Wednesdays?”

Jack grinned. “Thank you.”

She replied with a smile of her own. “I’m board certified to make you smile. Now, you want to talk?”

“Not really.” He paused as the waiter brought over their food. After he left, Jack sighed and poked at his dinner. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“The beginning?”

“Which beginning? The beginning of my work crisis, which stems from the fact that I’m working in a profession that doesn’t seem to welcome those with a different sexual proclivity? The beginning of my personal crisis, which stems from the fact that I’m dating a man that has a whole other life that I can’t be a part of? The beginning of my family crisis which stems from my sister’s decision to carry through with killing herself? Or the beginning of my other personal crisis which stems from the fact that Pacey is no longer speaking to me?”

“Whichever one you feel is most important.” She took a sip of her wine. “Or whichever is easiest.”

“None of them are easy.” He shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“We don’t have to.” She smiled at him and shook her head in response. “I’m your friend, Jack. And that means that you tell me whatever you want to tell me. I’m not your psychiatrist; I’m not your counselor. I’m just your friend.”

“Thank you.” He extended a bite of his pasta toward her. “Shall we pretend that there’s nothing wrong in either of our lives for a couple of hours?”

“Do you think there’s enough wine?”

 

~**~  
Pacey stood outside the train station looking around. The sign said Capeside and he experienced the familiar rush of emotion that always accompanied returning home. He hated home. He hated most of his family, hated the town that always looked at him as if he was some sort of blight on their perfect reputation.

He sat down on the stairs, glancing out at the night. The lights behind him were off, the station closed for the evening. Somehow, it seemed a perfect sort of homecoming.

“New in town?”

He looked up, surprised. “Hey.”

“I got a rather cryptic call from an old friend who told me it might be nice if I showed up here tonight right about this time.” Dawson raised an eyebrow. “What brings you home?”

“That word is getting quite the workout today.” Pacey stood up and brushed off the seat of his jeans. “I take it this particular old friend simply told you I was coming and neglected to mention any sort of reason?”

“He just said it might be best if I came bearing at least a six pack.”

Pacey climbed into the passenger seat of Dawson’s car and grabbed one of the beers that lay on the seat between them. Snapping it open, he took a long swallow. “Andie killed herself yesterday. I woke up, walked downstairs and found her sprawled out all over the living room.”

“Jesus, Pace.” Dawson took his own beer and downed some of it. “No, Jack didn’t mention that at all.”

Pacey finished his beer and opened another. “Yeah. Quite the anniversary present.”

Dawson’s eyes widened even further and he took another long drink. “Jesus, Pace.”

“My sentiments exactly.” He stared out the windshield. “So, where are we headed?”

“Where are you staying?”

Pacey sighed and laughed softly. “Hell, I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far in advance. Basically, it came down to the fact that I couldn’t step foot in my house and Jack’s apartment is a little small for two people. So I needed someplace to go. Capeside was just…”

“Natural.”

“Unfortunately.” Pacey smirked. “So, I figured I could beg mercy from Bessie and Bodie and see if they’ll put me up at the B&B.”

“Or you could just stay in our spare room.” Dawson shrugged as he started the car. “I know my mom and dad won’t mind. I mean, they never minded the entirety of our childhood.”

“Why are you home, anyway?”

“Kara’s birthday.”

“That’s right. How is the littlest Leery?”

“Self-centered, annoying, spoiled, naïve…”

“Sounds like another Leery I know.” Pacey grinned. “It must be a family trait.”

“As I recall, I’m the one rescuing you from a five mile walk into town.” Dawson gave Pacey a knowing look. “I’d watch the disparaging comments.”

“I can’t help it, Dawson. Disparaging comments just sort of come naturally when the two of us are together.” Pacey grinned. “Besides, I imagine that you’ll level a few in my direction before the day is out.”

“Undoubtedly.” Dawson pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of his parent’s house. “How are you holding up? You seem to have your sense of humor intact. Which, if I remember correctly, is a typical Pacey Witter defense mechanism meaning that you’ve got a tenuous hold on your emotions.”

“Wow. You remember that much about me?”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Another defense mechanism.” Pacey looked out the window, avoiding Dawson’s gaze. “I haven’t quite gotten around to dealing with any of this. I don’t know how. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or feel or anything.”

“It’ll come.”

“Yeah. But when and how? And will I be able to handle it?” Pacey’s breath clouded the window and he brushed the steam away. “Andie was sort of my rock, you know? And when your rock washes away…”

Dawson didn’t respond, driving the rest of the way toward his house in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

Jack held open the door of the cab as Jen climbed in then climbed in behind her. “I’ll escort you home.”

“That’s what the cab driver is for, you know.” She leaned on his shoulder and let her eyes close.

“Yeah, especially because you seem really able to defend yourself in a bad situation.” He kissed the top of her head. “Is Daniel at home?”

“Nope. The nanny’s got the kiddo and Daniel’s working tonight, as usual.” Her voice was slightly bitter, slurred with the effects of the wine. “One big happy family, don’t you know.”

He stroked her hair, holding her against his chest. “I thought I was the one who needed help here. I mean, Im supposed to be the big basket case.”

“Oh no,” she shook her head, inhaling the strong scent of him. “Psychiatrists are by far the most screwed up of everyone. I mean, you knew me through high school, you should know that by now.”

“I do. I know better than you think I do.” He rocked her gently, taking comfort from comforting her. “And I know you’re hurting.”

“Just like you.” She lifted her head and looked at him, her heart blurred by the tears in her eyes. She raised her hand and stroked his cheek, leaning up toward him. “We’re two sides of the same coin, aren’t we Jack?”

“Yeah;” His eyes met hers, melting her, melting something inside him. “We are.” He returned her gesture, his fingers warming her tear-stained skin. “So what do you suggest we do?”

“My suggestions are terribly compromising,” she whispered. She lifted her head some more, her lips so close to his. “And I don’t want to ruin what we have, Jack. I need you...and it.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Too much.”

He moved his thumb to her lips, rubbing the soft skin. He pulled away, barely hearing her sigh, a mixture of relief and desperate pain. Leaning forward, he spoke softly to the taxi driver then settled back in his seat.

“I’m sorry,” Jen whispered.

Jack didn’t meet her eyes. “We’re going to my place.”

 

~**~  
Pacey was in the door less than a minute when a bundle of blonde pre-teen launched herself at him. He caught Dawson’s little sister around the waist and swung her around before planting her firmly back on the ground. “Hey there, squirt.”

“I’m not a squirt.” She glared at him. “Just because you’re bigger than me…”

“Everyone’s bigger than you, Kara. You’re like microscopic.” He patted her head, deliberately making his voice patronizing. “And you’re in the way of my sojourn to the bar.”

“Mom and Dad don’t keep alcohol in the house anymore. Not since I found it and sort of used it to set the house on fire.” She looked embarrassed. “I figure I should tell you what the scorch marks are before Dawson decides to humiliate me like he usually does.”

“It’s a tough job,” Dawson admitted. “Well, it would be, if you didn’t make it so easy.”

She stuck her tongue out at her older brother as she grabbed Pacey’s hand. “Come into the kitchen. Jenna and I are making cookies.”

“Jenna?” Pacey cocked an eyebrow in Dawson’s direction. “You actually managed to convince her to come with you?”

“More than that,” Kara said teasingly. “He actually asked her to marry him. And, strangely enough, she said yes. We’re considering calling Jen and asking her to give the poor girl some treatment.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure that Mom and Dad wouldn’t miss you in the slightest if you disappeared mysteriously.”

“It would get me away from you.” She tugged Pacey into the kitchen and forced him to sit on one of the stool surrounding the small island in the center. “So, you want milk with your cookies?”

“Actually, I think I’m a little too far past sober for cookies and milk. However, I’ll take you up on it a little later, okay?” He kissed the top of her head and slid off the stool, heading over to the fridge. “Dawson? Tell me there’s more beer?”

“There is.” Jenna walked into the room and gave him a hug. “Hey, Pace.”

“Hey there.” He hugged her back. “Tell me the rumors aren’t true? Tell me you haven’t been lured to the dark side by his assumed sense of innocence? Tell me that you’re not going to marry this chump?”

“I don’t have much choice. He’s the only one who asked.” She grinned. “Where’s Andie?”

He released her and took a step back. “Andie’s…uh…” He looked over her shoulder, making sure that Kara wasn’t in the room any longer. “Andie committed suicide yesterday.”

“Pacey.” Jenna’s face fell. “I’m…oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” She pulled him back into a hug and held him. “How are you?”

“Really sick of that question,” he chuckled lightly, his eyes distant and staring over her shoulder at nothing. He pulled out of the hug and forced an expression onto his face, hoping no one would notice that every word was devoid of emotion. “I’m sorry, I’m just...”

“It’s okay,” Jenna assured him as she stepped away, moving closer to Dawson and sharing a worried glance with him. “Forget that I asked.”

Pacey smiled. “Thanks. I will.”

~**~  
Jack led Jen down the hall to his apartment, his hand firm around hers. He could feel his heart pounding, his head screaming at him. He reached into his jeans pocket for his keys, taking a deep breath as he clicked open the lock, firmly pushing his thoughts away.

Jen leaned against him, relying on his strength to support her. “Jack?”

He shook his head and swung the door open, moving his arm around her and guiding her inside. She moved without hesitation, afraid now that any resistance might shatter this fragile circumstance.

Jack shut the door behind them, heading for the bedroom. Jen closed her eyes, following him, unsure if the burning tears that blurred her vision were ones of pain, anticipation or disappointment.

They stopped moving and Jen looked at him, watching his expression. Nothing showed in the stormy blue of his eyes. They were mirrors reflecting a flat absence of emotion. “Jack...”

His hand snaked around her neck as he pulled her close, kissing her. Everything was slow and deliberate, the insidious movements of his tongue, sliding between her lips and luring her into a deeper embrace. As one hand tightened around the base of her neck, caressing the skin there, the other slipped around her waist and kneaded the flesh at the base of her spine, working its way under her jacket and blouse to bask in the bare heat.

Sliding one leg between both of hers, Jack pulled Jen closer, turning her as he did so. She was facing the door now, the edge of the mattress pressing into her calves. Jack’s hands moved over her body, exploring her as his tongue danced over her skin.

Her nails grazed the thin material of his shirt, sliding across his back as she buried her face in the hollow of his neck, her lips leaving a burgundy trail down to his collar. Jack’s hands moved up, finding her head and capturing it, holding her still as he looked down into her eyes.

Nothing.

Jen tried to pull away, unable to as Jack held her still. There was nothing in his eyes, just a blank stare, echoes of The Stepford Wives. She struggled in his grasp and he seemed to focus on her, smiling slightly as he brought her mouth to his once again.

This time the kiss was fast and harsh, his lips grinding into hers, skin trapped between teeth, painful. Tears swelled in Jen’s eyes as he pulled her closer, hating her, hating himself. Finally, she jerked away from him, her own eyes wild, as much emotion in them as was lacking in his. “What the fuck, Jack...”

“Exactly,” he whispered harshly, pulling her back to him and pushing her toward the bed all at once. His hands were relentless then, tugging at her clothes. Silk and linen tossed aside, her suit disposed of like so much junk mail.

Jen didn’t resist as he lowered her to the bed, discarding his clothes as easily as he did hers. Her eyes swept over him, memorizing him and this moment. She wanted to cry, wanted to call up the tears that she knew she’d shed soon enough, but found them lacking as he spread her legs, stroking her thighs with distracted hands.

The softly whispered endearments and the hopeless laughter of friendship seemed somewhere lost in the past, lost in the fantasy of what she’d imagined this moment to be like. Instead she was faced with his utterly unimpassioned gaze as he reached past her, grabbing for lubricant out of sheer habit.

Her sigh was lost on him, as was her relief as he coated his semi-erect cock before sliding it inside her, easing his way along the dry passage. She closed her eyes and pictured things as she wished they were, hoping that some semblance of arousal would ignite something in him, in her.

Jack groaned in frustration, finally feeling some hint of emotion as he thrust harder and harder, having no effect on his need. His cock hurt, ached with each movement, the flaccid skin accepting the punishing strokes easily, the pain delayed until he could feel again.


	8. Chapter 8

Pacey sank onto the bench and started at the creek. The rushing water swirled past him, the sound almost soothing.

“Thinking about throwing yourself in? Because I’d be more than happy to give you a shove, help you over the railing?.”

“You’re always so helpful, Joey.”

She sank down next to him and followed his gaze to the creek. “Not that I would recommend the creek as a final resting place. The current isn’t that strong, and most of the time it’s not that deep. You’d have to really try to actually accomplish a death wish.”

“You know, no matter how horrible my life has ever been, I’ve never actually contemplated drowning my sorrows in anything other than alcohol. But it’s nice to know that you actually did research back in our youth.”

“Oh yeah. I had to know the best ways to get rid of you. Wouldn’t want Doug or your dad accidentally stumbling over the body.” She still hadn’t looked at him, although the affection in her voice was unmistakable. “You here for Kara’s birthday bash?”

“Not exactly.” Pacey looked up from the water, fixing his gaze on the opposite shore. “Just get into town?”

“Yeah. Drove past you and thought that big head looked familiar.” She punched him lightly on the arm, sensing the rude comment in the making. Turning slightly, she leaned against the arm of the bench and glanced at him, worry in her eyes. “Jokes aside, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Andie committed suicide.”

Silence settled around them, even the sounds of the street and creek muted. “Pacey, I’m...I’m so sorry.”

His hand found hers, squeezing it gently. “Yeah. Me too.” His laughter was soft and sad. Tears stung his eyes as he disengaged his hand. “Sorry.”

The word was flat. She tilted her head curiously. “Sorry for what?”

“I just stopped for a minute,” he stood up, needing to escape without looking at her. “I’ve got to go.”

Joey watched him leave, never once looking back in her direction.

 

~**~  
Jack awoke to a loud knock on the door. He groaned softly, shoving the blanket off his naked body. A quiet moan stopped his movements.

Everything came back to him in a rush, like the flood of wine they’d consumed. A quick glance at the clock let him know that only a few hours had passed. Tugging on the blanket, he pulled it away to reveal Jen’s lean, lush form. “Oh shit,” he breathed.

The knock came again, spurring him into action. He climbed off the bed and grabbed his robe, tugging it on as he headed for the front door. A quick glance back at the bedroom assured him that there were no telltale signs of his activities but did nothing to stop the self-recrimination he whispered under his breath.

“I was about to use my key.” Daniel smiled warmly as Jack opened the door. “Sleeping?”

“Emotional day,” Jack offered in lieu of explanation as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “So...yeah. Sleeping in.”

“Can I come in? Or am I confined to the hallway for the duration of this conversation?” His smile was impish and hungry and not lost on Jack, despite his preoccupation.

“Depends. Is this conversation likely to be like our last?”

“This one’s actually going to be more about how I’m an ass and I don’t deserve you.” Daniel edged his way into the apartment. “Then I thought I might grovel and beg your forgiveness.” He reached out for Jack’s hand. “So can I? Come in?”

Jack stepped back, taking great care not to look in the direction of the bedroom. “You’re already in.”

Daniel moved to the couch and sat down, rubbing his hands over his knees. “So, I mentioned I’m an ass, right? And completely insensitive?”

“You didn’t mention that you were a jerk.”

“I thought maybe ass would sufficiently cover that.” He looked up at Jack pleadingly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just...I don’t know how to help you right now, and everything I say manages to be completely wrong. You’d think I’d be a hell of a lot better at this, since I live with a psychiatrist.” Seeing Jack’s face, he squeezed his eyes closed. “See? I suck.”

“No.”

“I do.” Daniel smirked. “I do.”

“It’s not your fault that...”

“That I’m married? That I’m insensitive? That I...that I love you?”

Jack looked away from the naked emotion in his lover’s eyes. “Well, the married one is actually your fault.”

Daniel sighed. “Do you think there’s any hope for us?”

“As what, Daniel?” Jack refused to meet his gaze.

Daniel’s hands moved faster, the burn of friction keeping him focused. “Lovers, Jack.”

“You’re married.”

“I went to a lawyer today. I stopped by Jen’s office and we talked and... And I realized that I’m not...” He took a deep breath. “I filed for divorce.”

Jack sank down onto the chair opposite Daniel. “What?” He looked up, his eyes on his bedroom door. “You...have you told Jen?”

“Not yet. But she won’t care,” he assured him. Rubbing his tired eyes, Daniel shrugged. “She’s in love with someone else.” You was the unspoken word in the room. “And so am I.”

“Daniel...”

“I don’t expect anything from you, Jack. I mean, I’m not expecting to move in here and I certainly don’t expect you to make any decisions now when everything’s so out of whack. I mean, your life’s been turned upside down. And I know that, no matter how insensitive I seem, so...”

“Are you divorcing Jen to be with me?”

Daniel slid off the couch and moved between Jack’s legs, pushing his robe out of the way. His hands unfastened the thick ties as he kissed his way down Jack’s stomach, ignoring Jack’s feeble protests. Jack closed his eyes slowly, sinking into the feel of Daniel’s mouth on him, but not before he saw Jen quietly shut his bedroom door.

~**~  
Dawson didn’t say anything as Joey climbed the steps to his porch and sat next to him on the swing. They were both silent for a long moment, her hands twisting nervously. “So, I managed to make a total fool of myself.”

“Ran into Pacey, did you?”

“Oh yeah.” She sighed. “Ran into him and immediately stuck my foot in my mouth.”

“He’s playing this whole thing pretty close to the chest,” Dawson said with a shrug. “He’s told me she killed herself, but that’s all I know. It doesn’t seem like Pacey.” He sighed; mimicking her slightly slumped posture. “I was hoping he’d talk to you.”

“There was banter,” she admitted. “But banter usually means that we’re doing our very best to avoid talking to each other.”

“I’m worried about him.”

“Me too,” the corners of her mouth turned up. “And I just got here.”

“Pacey’s stubborn.”

“Yes. He is.” Joey shrugged sadly. “I wonder why no one called. Jen orJack,” she clarified. “I would assume they know.”

“Jack called, but he neglected to mention the fact that Andie was dead. Maybe they’re not sure how to deal with it either.” Dawson closed his eyes, rubbing them tiredly. “I mean, let’s face it, in high school, I don’t know that any of us would have been surprised, but now...”

“Everything was perfect, just like she wanted.” Joey nodded. “Perfect job, perfect marriage...”

“The problem with perfection is that it’s very rarely perfect.” Dawson laughed bitterly. “Trust me, I know.”

“Yeah, but your perfection usually went right back to being perfect after it’s detour through crappy.”

He nodded, accepting. “I’m damn lucky.”

Joey smiled widely, moving closer, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulders. “It’s about damn time you realized it too.”

“I’ve been realizing it for a long time. The problem is that my paltry experience at traumatic events makes me a pretty ineffectual friend, especially in situations like this.”

Joey bit her lower lip, trying to keep from smiling. “He wouldn’t have come if he didn’t need you, appreciate you.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments, Jo.” He pushed against the porch, setting the swing in motion. “I don’t need validation.”

“That wasn’t what I meant. I just think he needs us, whether he knows it or not.” Joey tucked her feet under her. “I just...”

“I know.” Dawson tightened his arm around her and hugged her close. “I know.”

“Now here’s a familiar, heart-warming scene.” Pacey leaned against the storm door, his arms crossed over his chest. “Former soul mates cuddled closely in a beautiful, romantic setting. The lights down low, the stars out.” He sighed dramatically. “It brings a tear to my eye.”

“Close down the bars?” Dawson asked lightly.

“You’re so naive, Dawson. The bars don’t close until two. I am simply far too inebriated for those fine establishments to continue serving me. So, I thought I’d inebriate myself.” He held up a bottle. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Pacey.”

He smiled at Joey. “Don’t worry, Potter. I have no intention of following Andie to an early grave. I said I’d drown my troubles. Not myself.”

Her tone hardened. “Pacey.”

“But your concern it duly noted. And appreciated.” He started toward the door, not bothering to look back, not really caring enough. “And just to show you just how much, I’ll give you two a few moments alone before I tell Jenna where you are.”


	9. Chapter 9

Daniel rested his head on Jack’s thigh, stroking the dark hair that decorated his skin. “I should go,” he said with a sigh. “See Jen.”

“I know.” Jack’s voice conveyed nothing as one hand moved through Daniel’s hair and the other curled into the leather seat, his nails biting into the fabric.

“I’ll come by later?”

“Call.” Jack managed a smile as Daniel got to his feet. Feeling the awkwardness of the silence that filled the room, he continued. “Not that I don’t want you to come by, but Pacey might call with the plans for Andie’s funeral. So...call first.”

“Of course.” Daniel waited as Jack stood up and pulled his robe closed. “If there’s anything I can do...”

“Just...” Jack stroked his cheek before leaning in and kissing him softly, echoes of emotion swirling in the gentle gesture. “Just call first.”

He watched Daniel walk away, no longer seeing him once he was headed for the door. Once it clicked shut behind him, Jack walked toward the bedroom, opening the door slowly. Inside, the room was still dark, still smelling of frustration and need.

Jen sat on the end of the bed staring over his shoulder. “Is he gone?”

“Jen...”

She refused to look at him, refused to do anything. “It’s no big deal, Jack. I’ve known you were screwing my husband forever. Oh,” she held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “It’s not that he wasn’t discreet. He was always ever so careful not to mention the fact that he was fucking my best friend.”

“Which hurts worse?” The question was quiet but knowing.

Her eyes were dry and as flat as his own. “Is that what this is all about? Hurting me worse than you’re hurting?”

“Is that what you think? After all,” his words were harsh now, hateful, hurting. “You’re the shrink.”

“I am. And as the shrink, I can tell you exactly what this is about. You want reassurances that you’re not going to end up like Andie, that you’re not going to wind up with a razor in your hand, slicing open your veins in an effort to find a fucking emotion. After all, Andie had it all. Right, Jack? And you’ve got nothing.”

“I’ve got your husband.”

“And you’re welcome to him.” Jen stood up, her clothes showing no signs that she’d been skillfully undressed, that she’d let her best friend treat her like nothing more than an object. “I hope he can fill up the void in you, Jack. Looks like he’s been doing a stellar job so far.”

She was almost past him, almost in the living room when he grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Well, if he’s learning his techniques from his wife, I can’t imagine why it isn’t working. Tell me, Jen, is having sex with your clients the best way to get them to open up to you?”

“You’re not a client, Jack. You’re not much of anything to me right now.” She brushed off his grip and headed for the door. When she reached it, she turned back to face him; unable to help noticing the hard planes of his body, clearly visible even in his robe. “And I sincerely hope that whatever he does for you, he makes you feel something. Because if you keep feeling nothing, you’re going to end up exactly like Andie. And no one’s going to miss you.”

 

~**~  
Joey knocked on the guest room door before pushing it open. Pacey lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “You made one mistake.”

“What was that?”

“When you’re drunk, you’re actually much more vitriolic.” She sat on the end of the bed, leaning against the footboard. “At least when it comes to me and Dawson.”

“It’s been a few years since I’ve had to mock you two. I’m a little out of practice.” He shrugged. “You’ve got to give me points for trying.”

“Oh, you’re a convincing enough drunk,” she admitted. “But there are a few of us who know the dark, bitter truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

“You’re hurting and angry and sad,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And you’re hiding it with jovial banter and forced bitter solitude.”

“I am, am I?”

“Yup.”

“You haven’t seen me in years, Potter.”

“But you never change.” She smiled warmly, “No matter how much you try.”

Pacey grinned as well, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Is this where I’m supposed to break down and confess my inner feelings? Tell you what walking in on Andie’s dead body did to me?”

“If you want to.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.” She slid off the bed and started for the door.

“That’s it? I don’t give you the heartfelt confession you want, so you bail on me?”

“You’ve got a full bottle of booze waiting for you, Pace. I figured you’d want to be alone.”

She was almost out of the door when she heard his quiet reply. “I don’t.”

“Dawson, Jenna and I were about to watch a movie. There’s popcorn.”

“ET?”

“No.”

“Anything by Spielberg?”

“Nope. Not even something by Mr. Brooks. I understand it might even actually be a new release.”

“They still make those?”

She smiled at him from the doorway, aware that their banter meant everything was very much still wrong. “So, you coming? Because the popcorn’s getting cold, and I’m pretty sure we’ve already missed out on the best seats in the house.”

He sat up and gave her a knowing leer. “If we sit in the back row, you think I can convince you to give me a blow-job?”

She blushed and ducked her head, even knowing that he was just reviving an old memory. “Sorry, Pace. That was a once-in-a-lifetime offer and, as I recall most vividly, you turned me down.”

He took her hand and followed her to the stairs. “Only because we weren’t alone at the time,” he reminded her with a soft chuckle. “Although it would have been worth it to see the look on Bessie’s face if I’d taken you up on it.”

“You had your chance,” she shrugged as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Just because you were sure I wouldn’t go through with it.”

“Like you’d have really gone down on me during the newest masterpiece from Disney.”

“Hey, I dated you for a year,” she reminded him. “Stranger things have happened.”

They made their way into the living room, settling on the couch not occupied by Dawson and Jenna. Joey glanced over at Pacey in the dim light of the TV screen, knowing she’d done nothing to help him. Pacey, sensing her gaze, smiled back at her, his eyes still as blue as ever, and, sadly, just as empty as they’d been that afternoon.


	10. Chapter 10

Jen stood on the front porch, inhaling deeply. The light was on, warding off the early morning dimness and she could hear the sounds of the household routine through the open window. Hannah, her daughter, was giggling and refusing to eat whatever the nanny, Margaret, had prepared and Daniel was admonishing her in his typical playful style.

“Now or never,” she reminded herself softly, slipping her key into the lock.

“Mommy!” Hannah slid off her seat and rushed to the door, wrapping her arms around Jen’s legs in one smooth movement. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, angel.” She managed to detach her daughter’s grip before bending down to her level and giving her a warm hug. “Were you good?”

“Mostly.”

“Uh-huh. And if I ask Margaret will I get the same reply?”

“Maybe.” Hannah smiled beatifically. “But if you don’t, it’s not because I’m not telling the truth.”

“Go finish your breakfast.” She patted her bottom and watched her run back to the kitchen, full of excitement and laughter. Straightening, Jen found herself face to face with her husband. “Well, what a surprise.”

“Where were you?”

“You’re quite the person to be asking that question.” Jen slipped off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “I don’t recall being required to give you a day to day rundown of my activities. After all, I don’t ask you.”

“You want to ask me, Jen?”

“I don’t want to ask you anything, Daniel. I don’t want to ask you and I don’t want to know where you are when you don’t come home at night. I don’t care what or who you’re doing when you’re gone for days on end. I really don’t give a shit.”

“Then why are you so angry?”

“I’m not.” Jen sighed and moved into the kitchen, saying hello to Margaret before making her way to the coffee maker. “Thank you for taking care of her last night, Margaret. I’ll be home today, so you’re welcome to an extra day off.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lindley.”

“You know, in the house, it’s perfectly acceptable to call her Mrs. Franklin,” Daniel reminded them, his gaze locked on Jen. “After all, that is who she promised to be till death do us part.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Jen muttered softly under her breath.

“What, dear?” The last word was flatly ironic.

“Nothing darling.” Jen replied. “I’m going to shower and change, Margaret. Can you stay long enough for that?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Jen picked up her coffee and headed for the back stairs, planting a kiss on Hannah’s head along the way. “Be good.”

“I am.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Jen smiled and ruffled Hannah’s blonde hair. Walking slowly up the stairs, she could feel Daniel’s eyes on her, could feel him following her. “Just so you’re aware. I’m not in the mood at all.”

“You didn’t come home last night.”

“And how do you know that?” She didn’t bother to nail him with a glance over her shoulder, choosing instead to take a healing sip of coffee. “I would wager it wasn’t because you were home, was it, Daniel?”

“I was working.”

“Which street corner?”

“You’re a fucking bitch, Jennifer.”

“You wound me.” She opened the door to their bedroom and set her cup down on the dresser that ran the length of the wall. “It’s almost like the pot calling the kettle black, Daniel. Except you’re more of a whore than a bitch.”

“I’m a whore?”

“Yes.” Jen finally faced him, careful to keep her expression cool. “You don’t come home at night, you sleep around and you fuck almost anything. You don’t think I hear the whispers at the police functions? You don’t think I hear what people say about you? I deal with cases handed over by the police. I see the people you work with every day. And every day I hear them wonder why I stay with you, why I put up with you. Why I don’t just kick your lousy ass to the street.”

“And why don’t you?”

“It’s amusing to watch you trying to be clever.” She unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off, tossing it in the hamper. Ignoring him now, she removed her bra and tossed it over as well, glad to be rid of the lingering smell of the night before. She heard him close the door, locking them inside, shrouding them in privacy. “Of course, it’s a futile attempt on your part.”

“You know all about being clever, don’t you? After all, you think you’ve got all the answers. You’re so sure you know everything there is to know about me, about everyone.” He walked toward her, sizing her up as she continued to undress.

“I do know you, Daniel. I know how badly you need that next sexual fix. I know what you’re willing to do to get it. There are treatments, you know. People who can help you with this little addiction of yours.”

“You don’t know me at all.”

“Really?” She turned to face him, almost taunting him with her nude body. “I don’t know that you’re going to tell me that you’re leaving me because there’s someone else you’re in love with? You think I’m too stupid to know that you’re fucking Jack in an effort to get back at me? You think I don’t see that the only reason you want him is because you think I can’t have him.”

“You can’t. You never will.”

Jen stepped closer to him, her hips swaying as she moved. “I had him last night.”

Daniel shook his head, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Shut up.”

“We went out to dinner, two best friends enjoying a night on the town, consoling each other, and then he took me back to his place and we made love. We made love for hours, rolling around in the big bed, all tangled together.”

“Shut up, Jennifer.”

“And then when you showed up, he let you suck him off because he was too tired to do anything else. Tell me, Daniel, did he even act like he was enjoying it? Because, from where I was standing in the bedroom doorway, he didn’t look like he was having any fun. Maybe he was just being nice. You make a decent mercy fuck.”

Neither of them moved in the stillness. The room seemed to have stopped, every motion frozen as she looked up at him from the floor where his fist had sent her tumbling. Her hand was poised just above her jaw, too stunned to rub the tender flesh.

Daniel stared down at her, his whole body shaking with rage and remorse. “Jen…”

“Get out.”

“Jen…”

“Get out,” she managed to say the words around the rapidly swelling flesh. Her lips felt numb, her face felt numb. “Get your ass out and don’t ever, ever come back.”

 

~**~  
“You want company?” Dawson asked from the driver’s seat of the car.

Pacey looked out the passenger’s side window at the building they were parked in front of and took a deep breath. “I’m good.”

“Really?” The word was spoken innocuously enough, but it immediately brought Pacey’s gaze to Dawson.

“You don’t think I’m fine?”

“Honestly? I think you’re about as far from fine as someone can get and still function. I think the slightest thing is going to set you off at some point, and I’m afraid that whoever’s around is going to be left bleeding from the shrapnel.”

“Wow. You have given this some thought.”

“Pacey, I thought that the minute I saw you at the train station.”

“Right. Like you’re that insightful. Joey told you to be worried, didn’t she?”

Dawson sighed and rested his hands on the steering wheel, tapping the leather cover with his fingers. “You realize that we all know it’s an act, right? Not a single person you’ve seen since you’ve gotten here thinks that you’re doing fine.”

“Kara…”

“Kara asked me this morning what was wrong with you.” He was silent for a moment. “Pace, there’s nothing wrong with being in pain. There’s nothing wrong with showing that pain. We’re your friends. You’re supposed to be able to lean on us during these kinds of things.”

“If I needed someone to lean on, I’d let you know.”

Dawson looked over at his friend and sighed. Pacey was sitting stiffly in the seat, his hand clenched around the door handle. “You want me to go in with you?”

“No.”

“You want me to pick you up later?”

“I’ll walk back,” Pacey decided. “I have to pick up something for Kara’s birthday anyway.”

“Pacey…nevermind.”

“What?”

“Just…just need someone before this whole thing is over and done with, okay? At some point decide you need someone and open up to them?”

“I’ll see you later, D.” Pacey climbed out of the car and headed into the funeral parlor. The room was cool, decorated in somber but not depressing tones. A mahogany desk dominated the room, surrounded by mahogany chairs with royal blue velvet cushions. Sunlight filtered in through a high window, washing the room with pale light.

“Can I help you?”

He looked at the open doorway to the right of the desk and nodded at the young woman standing there. “I need…well, I’m not sure what I need. My wife died.”

“Right this way. Do you have an appointment?”

“I called. I’m…I’m Pacey Witter.”

“Of course.” She guided him to an office and gestured to a chair. “Just make yourself comfortable.”

“In a building full of dead people?”

“We’re not all quite dead, Mr. Witter.” She smiled and pressed a buzzer on the desk. The hollow sound rang somewhere in the distance and she started for the door. “Mr. Williams will be with you shortly.”


	11. Chapter 11

Pacey stepped out into the bright sunlight, tugging his sunglasses down. He leaned against the warm glass and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“You okay?”

He opened them slowly and looked to his left, shaking his head in exasperation. “Jesus Christ. Are you guys tag-teaming me now?”

Joey shrugged and smiled. “It’s probably as close as you’ll ever get to a threesome.”

“Dating you was a threesome.” He turned away from her and started walking.

“Ah,” Joey started after him, nodding as she did so. “Avoiding issues by referring to our long ago past. Yet again you’re exhibiting classic Pacey Witter behavior.”

“Classic Pacey,” he snapped. “Brought back since New Pacey didn’t go over all too well with the masses.”

“Well, it’s nice to see those defense mechanisms haven’t rusted over time.” She sped up her pace in an effort to catch up with him. “I thought we got past all this last night.”

“That was before I realized I was being babysat.” He stopped and faced her. “I don’t need someone looking after me, Potter. I’m a big boy now. I can do lots of things all by myself.”

“We’re just worried.”

“Right. You and Dawson. Got it.”

“Not just me and Dawson, Pacey. Jesus, would you just move on from that?”

“I have moved on, Jo. I got married, moved away. All sorts of good stuff. What have you done?”

“You’re a real prick. Funny how I always forget that when I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, well, absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Taking off his sunglasses, he glared at her. “And I’d really like to be fonder of you right now.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you today?” She shook her head as she spoke, her anger flashing in her eyes.

Pacey stepped up to her, closing the small distance between them. “I had to arrange to bury my wife, Jo. I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t be all chipper.” He held her gaze, his eyes still vacant, despite the angry edge to his words. “Now, why don’t you be a good little girl and run off to give your report to Dawson.”

Joey took a deep breath and just stood there, refusing to look away. “I’m sorry.” Pacey turned and started walking and she reached out to grab his arm. He shook her off and kept moving. Jogging, she got ahead of him and put both hands against his chest, keeping him in place. “Please?”

He stopped, his mouth set. “What?”

“Can’t we start this whole thing over? Pretend that we just happened to run into each other, purely by chance, and just…”

“No, Jo. I don’t feel much like pretending anymore.” He brushed her hands away and started walking once more.

“What did you get Kara for her birthday?”

Pacey stopped and shook his head, anger etched in every muscle. “Are you still fucking the accountant?”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what, Jo? I’m just taking an interest in your life. Trying to have a normal conversation. Because, you know, we’re pretending.”

“You are pretending, Pacey. Pretending nothing’s wrong. Pretending that you’re not hurting. Pretending…”

“Pretending I give a shit about your psychoanalyzation of me.” He smiled, his expression hard. “Which I think I’m doing a fine job of, don’t you?”

“Fine.” Joey threw up her hands. “You want to go around like a zombie, mad at the world? You do that. But you know what, Pacey?” She moved toward him, her voice low and conspiratorial. “You’re not mad at the world. You’re mad at Andie because she’d dead. And you’re mad at yourself.”

“Oh really? And why, pray tell, is that?”

“Because you didn’t know you had to stop her.” She looked at him, holding his eyes with pure strength of will. “Or maybe because you’re afraid that you’re the reason she did it in the first place.”

 

~**~  
Purple was not her color.

Jen stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers tentative as they brushed the darkening skin of her jaw. She turned slightly, one nail tracing the red marks from his fingers, still standing out in high relief.

The son of a bitch had hit her.

Even after kicking him out, it had taken a few minutes to settle in, taken some time to digest what had happened. Taken some time to be really, really pissed off.

“Mommy?”

Jen closed her eyes and swore under her breath. “Come on in, sweetie.” She turned away from the mirror, shifting on the vanity seat and facing the door. Hannah stepped into the room, her bare toes digging into the deep blue carpet. “What’s up?”

“I finished my breakfast. I thought I’d come up and see you.” She looked down at her feet, almost afraid to meet her mother’s eyes.

“Come here, pumpkin.” Hannah bit her lower lip and shook her head, her blonde hair whipping around her face. “Why not?”

“Daddy was mad when he left.”

“He wasn’t mad at you.”

“He was mad at you.” She looked up, her lower lip sucked into her mouth, her upper teeth just above her chin. “He told me that I should leave you alone.”

“Did he?”

“He said that you wanted to be alone. That’s why he was going.”

“Oh, pumpkin.” Jen shook her head and slid off the chair, sinking onto her knees in the carpet. “Please come here?”

She took a tentative step forward then stopped. “Are you mad at me, mommy? Daddy said you sent him away. Are you gonna send me away too?”

“No.” Her voice was soft and sad, the taint of anger barely noticeable. “I would never send you away. Mommy and Daddy just had a disagreement, and so he’s gone to visit Uncle Jack. He’s not going far away.”

“You…” Hannah moved into Jen’s lap, sinking down on the floor with her. She wrapped her chubby arms around her mother’s waist and clung to her, shivering a little. “You have an owie.”

Jen held herself still as Hannah’s fingers touched the forming bruise lightly then raised her own fingers to cover her daughters. “Yeah.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

Wide, innocent, green eyes looked up at her, full of sympathy and unconditional love. “I could kiss it. Would that help?”

Tears that she didn’t know she could still cry clouded Jen’s eyes as she nodded her head. “I think that would make everything all better.”


	12. Chapter 12

Dawson looked up as Pacey walked in the room, careful to school his features so that no emotion showed through. “Hey.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, like I’m some sort of errant child who’s disobeyed you for the umpteenth time. I’m not your home improvement project, okay?”

“I didn’t…”

“And I’m not your documentary feature either.” He rubbed his eyes and moved over to the window. The back yard of the Leery house was set up with tables and chairs, ready for Kara’s party. “And, before you say anything else, I’m fine.”

“I have no doubt.” Dawson walked up and stood beside him, staring out at the back yard as well. “In fact, from the recounting of the conversation I got from Joey, I’d say you’re way past fine and right into just fucking dandy.”

“So I got angry. I’d just dealt with my wife’s funeral arrangements. For some reason, I think that allows me a little bit of leeway when it comes to being rational. Especially when I feel like I’m being stalked.”

“No one’s stalking you, Pacey.”

“Oh no. Everyone’s just really concerned.”

“Andie was our friend too, Pacey.”

They were both silent for a moment, Andie’s name like a weight in the air. Finally, Pacey nodded. “I’m aware of that fact.”

“And we don’t know anything, don’t have any answers…and before you say anything, we don’t even have the answers you do have. Maybe you don’t know why, but you know something.”

“I don’t know anything, Dawson. All I know is that I got up on a lazy Saturday morning and was going to spend the day getting ready to celebrate my wedding anniversary. But instead, I walked into my living room and found my wife lying on the white carpet she insisted on buying, her blood spread out over it, staining it like cheap wine.”

“We’re worried because you seem so calm. Like you’re in shock.”

“What else is there, Dawson?” Pacey leaned forward and rested his forehead on the glass, smiling to himself as he realized he was adopting the pose Jack had claimed as his own in the wake of Andie’s death. “There’s no one to be angry at, no real reason to lose control.”

“You just lost your wife.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” He turned his head, his eyes pinning Dawson. “Don’t you think that it’s the first and last thought in my head every day? Every second?” He rubbed the palm of his hand across his forehead. “Christ, Dawson, I…” He broke off, his fragile mask cracking as he turned toward the kitchen. “What is that?”

Kara walked into the living room, her hand covered with oven mitts, the silver sheet in her hands decorated with fragrant steam. “I made cinnamon rolls.” She smiled and stepped closer. “I know they’re your favorite.”

Pacey swallowed thickly, shaking his head. He looked down, noticed their strange glances as Kara and Dawson both watched him, saw him start to shake all over, his body out of control as he stumbled away. “No…thank…” he turned, his stomach rebelling. He fell to the floor as he vomited, losing what little he’d eaten in a few aching heaves.

The pan clattered to the floor, the golden wood absorbing most of the noise as the rolls collided and separated, spreading cinnamon and frosting all over the ground.

Kara and Dawson both reached him at the same time. Kara bent down, her hands lost in the red mitts she wore. “Are you okay, Uncle Pacey?”

He tried to speak, overwhelmed by the sickly-sweet scent. Shaking his head, he continued retching, his empty stomach giving nothing but wretched air and bitter acid. Dawson moved Kara away and helped Pacey stand, allowing him to lean against him. “Kara, clean that up, okay? And open the door off the kitchen.”

“What’s wrong?” She looked nervously from one man to the other. “What did I do, Dawson?”

“Nothing.” He managed a smile for her, hoping that it calmed her. “I’m going to take Pacey outside, get him some fresh air.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Her concern was thick with worry and the milky sound of the onset of tears.

“He’s going to be fine.” Dawson started moving, forcing Pacey to move with him. “We’ll be outside. Maybe you could ask Jenna to bring us something to drink?”

Kara nodded, her eyes brimming with wetness. “I’m sorry, Uncle Pacey.”

He looked back at her, smiling weakly. Reaching out, Pacey grabbed her hand through the thick mitt and squeezed it before pulling away. He let Dawson lead him out onto the porch, not resisting.

“I’m going to guess that there’s a story there?”

“Why?” Pacey asked, his voice hoarse.

“Most people don’t throw up in your living room unless there’s something going on.” Dawson shrugged and settled Pacey into a chair before taking the one facing him. “So, why don’t you just tell me?”

“I woke up and went downstairs,” Pacey stated softly. There was no real emotion in his voice, he sounded flat and automated, as if he’d told the story a hundred times already. “It was Saturday, it was our anniversary. I knew Andie had some work to do that morning, so I didn’t expect her to be home.”

He looked up and found Dawson watching him, intent, interested. Shaking his head, Pacey continued. “There were cinnamon rolls on the table. She’d made them before she left. Then she’d written me a note telling me how excited she was for that night. After I read that, I walked into the living room and I found her.”

“Jesus, Pace.”

“And, if it makes you feel better, I threw up then too. Of course, we have white, shag carpet, so our clean up is going to be a hell of a lot tougher.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Pacey.”

“Her note…well, her note said that she was looking forward to that night, you know? She’d made me my favorite breakfast so that I’d make her favorite dinner.” He stopped speaking, his emotions starting to catch up to his voice. “So I don’t know anything, Dawson. I don’t have any answers at all. All I have is a dead wife and a bunch of friends who think I’m about to completely lose it.”

“Not completely.” Dawson walked over to Pacey and put his arm around him, giving him what little comfort he could.

“Oh really?”

“I’m not saying we don’t think you’re going to lose it,” Dawson reminded him, smiling enough to take any edge from the words. “We just don’t intend to let you completely lose it.”

“And I’m supposed to thank you for this?”

“You will,” Dawson assured him. “In the long run.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Sure.” Jack nodded absently and moved the phone to his other ear. “Yeah, I can do that.” He nodded again, his body stiffening as Daniel moved behind him, sliding his arms around Jack’s waist. “Not a problem.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.” Jack clicked off the phone and set it down, stepping out of Daniel’s embrace. “You’re back.”

“And feeling the cold shoulder.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“For me? Or for anyone?”

Jack sighed and moved over to the couch, sitting down and staring up at Daniel, a defeated expression on his face. “Do we have to do this now? I mean, I’ve really had a week I’d rather just forget, so maybe we could do this another time? Maybe you could put your dramas on the backburner for me?”

“My dramas?” Daniel asked incredulously. “You think that’s what this is? Some drama that I’m making up?”

“Daniel, we’ve been seeing each other for a year and a half. And yet you wait until now, the week my sister commits suicide to decide that you want to leave your wife and daughter? That had absolutely nothing to do with me.”

“I did it because I love you.”

“You did it because Andie’s death left you somewhere besides the center of my attention.” He lifted one hand and rubbed his tired eyes. “I appreciate that you have feelings for me…”

“Feelings for you.” Daniel nodded, his anger building, his hurt shining like a beacon. “I have feelings for you? I’m in love with you, Jack.”

“I’m not in love with you.”

Daniel froze, the words like ice in his veins, spoken with such finality, such coldness, such lack of emotion. “You’re upset because of Andie’s death, so I think I’m just going to go for now and you can call me…”

“I won’t call you, Daniel.” Jack lowered his hand and met his lover’s gaze. “And before you start, it has absolutely nothing to do with Jen, either. I just…I need something else in my life. I don’t need you.”

“You’re just lashing out at everyone, aren’t you?” His voice raised slightly, pain giving him some sort of manic energy as he paced behind the couch, throwing his gaze in Jack’s direction. “You ran Pacey out of town, you fucked me to hurt Jen, you fucked Jen to hurt me, and when that didn’t finish the job, you just decided to get rid of me, is that it?”

“This has nothing to do with you, Daniel. None of it has had anything to do with you.” Jack stood up and walked over to him, resting his hand on one of Daniel’s shoulders. “I realized that this morning when Jen left. Maybe I realized it when Andie died.”

“Realized what?” The words were small now, no longer backed by the strength of his hurt.

“I don’t love you. I haven’t loved you in a long time.” Leaning in, Jack kissed Daniel’s forehead softly before moving away. “Go home.”

“I don’t have a home to go to.”

“Jen’ll forgive you,” Jack promised him. “Just tell her that I hurt you like I hurt her and she’ll forgive you.”

“Right.” Daniel nodded and backed toward the door. His blue eyes were confused, hurt, wounded. “How did I get it all so wrong, Jack? I mean, I thought, when I saw what happened to Andie, that you’d figure it out. You’d realize that we’d been wasting time and we needed to make it all real. Instead, you’ve just found somewhere else to hide.”

“Goodbye, Daniel.” The door closed and Jack sighed with relief. The air in the room felt lighter, and for the first time since he’d arrived at his sister’s house he felt something like freedom. Moving toward the window, Jack leaned against the glass and stared down at the street below.

Reaching for the phone, he held it to his ear as he dialed the familiar number.

 

~**~  
“No one’s home to take your call.”

“Except you’re there. You don’t sound a thing like a machine.”

“What do you want?”

“I need a date.”

“I’m unavailable.”

“Andie’s funeral is next weekend.”

Jen sat silent for a moment. “I don’t think Miss Manners would approve of taking a date to your sister’s funeral.”

“I don’t either, but it’s the only occasion I have on my calendar, so if I’m going to take you out, you’re going to have to work with me.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“I figured you’d have forgiven me by now,” Jack stated softly.

“I’ve been busy. I haven’t gotten around to you.” Jen paused. “Is Daniel there?”

“No.”

“Has he been there?”

“I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.” Jack cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have done what I did to you, Jen. I shouldn’t have slept with him. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s okay, Jack. That was actually the least of what pissed me off. At least when he was with you, I knew he was safe.” She stared at herself in the mirror across from her bed for a moment before looking down at Hannah, sleeping innocently beside her. “He hit me, Jack.”

“What?”

“And hearing your voice made me realize how much I need my best friend, so consider yourself forgiven, okay? And maybe we can just pretend that what happened last night never happened?” She sniffed back the tears that threatened. “I need it not to have happened, Jack.”

“I’ll come right over.”

“I’m in my bedroom hiding under the covers with Hannah. I’m wearing pajamas.”

“Sounds great. I’ll bring mine.” He smiled, surprised that he still could and mean it. “Jen?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared to death that I’m going to end up like Andie.”

“I won’t let you.”

“Promise?”

Jen smiled through her tears as she heard his voice break, heard a rush of emotions leave him. “I swear.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Are you okay?”

Pacey looked up, his face blank although his eyes were dark with animalistic pain. “That seems to be the question of the day.”

“No one knows what else to say.”

“You’re wrong. No one knows what else to say to me. When they think I’m not around, or not listening, they’ve got plenty to say. Why’d she do it? I thought she was cured. Was it really suicide?” He looked back down at the creek, as if the dark, rushing waters might provide some answers. “And those are just the questions. The theories and speculation? The accusations? Those are the really fun and interesting ones.”

“People talk in this town, they gossip. They’ve got nothing better to do.”

“I went into a bar last night where the topic of discussion for the evening was what I’d done to drive her to it. I believe the big money was on asking her to be in a threesome with me and Jack.”

“And the ludicrousness of that doesn’t lead you to realize that no one is truly taking this seriously?”

“No. What’s ludicrous is that they don’t realize we’re already in a threesome, and it was me deciding that I wanted Jack more that pushed her over the edge.”

Joey moved to the end of the dock and stood beside him, slipping her hand in his. “Ah. The Pacey Witter I know and loathe.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “You think I’m joking?” he asked lightly.

She turned, tugging on his hand until he fell into step behind her, heading toward the Bed and Breakfast. When they were inside, she released him and shut the door, leaning back against it as she looked at him. “You know what I think? Really?”

He regarded her warily before looking down at his hands, surprised to find them shaking. “What?”

“I don’t think you have a single fucking clue why she did it.” She watched him carefully as he edged away from her, stopping when he backed into the counter that separated the dining room from the kitchen. “And I think that scares and hurts you more than anything.”

“Why…” he stopped and cleared his throat. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re afraid that it was you.” She took a step toward him and stopped, continuing tentatively as his eyes dropped to the floor. “You’re afraid that it was you and you didn’t even know it.” She reached him and stopped, lifting her hands to cup his face. “It wasn’t you, Pacey.”

“How can you be sure?” His voice cracked on the words, tears eroding the sound. “How can you know?”

“Because you loved her so much,” Joey assured him, kissing his forehead. “And because I know you.” He didn’t respond as she kissed the tip of his nose, his cheeks, his chin. Soft, soothing kisses meant to calm and reassure him. Joey pulled back and looked at him, wondering at the change in his face. His face was alive now; it held emotion and reaction, feeling and pain. “It wasn’t you.”

He nodded, swallowing the thickness that blocked his throat. The result was hoarse and rough. “Right.”

Joey kissed his forehead once more. “It wasn’t you.” They stared at one another in the distance that separated them, inches, centimeters, millimeters, breaths. Pacey licked his lips nervously as Joey’s fingers pressed against his cheeks, capturing his face before her.

“It wasn’t,” she breathed as their lips met, soft kisses melting like chocolate in sunlight, thick and sweet and warm. Pacey opened his mouth, his tongue moving over hers, tangling with it in the sudden heat of the room as he moved forward, holding her off the ground with strong arms as he pushed her up against the door and held her there.

His mouth left hers to explore the delicate expanse of her throat, his arms hefting her higher so he could trail his tongue over the tanned flesh, taste the salty traces of tears cried just an hour before.

Joey’s breath caught in her throat, hitching there as he nibbled his way down her body, holding her suspended off the ground as he ventured lower toward the neckline of her dress. Her hands were shaking as they lay on his shoulders, stroking the dark black of his suit jacket. “Pacey…we shouldn’t.”

“God,” he mumbled into her neck, his voice muffled even further by her skin, “don’t you think I’m aware of that?” He lowered her to the floor but didn’t move away from her, didn’t do anything but let his tongue dip lower into the valley between her breasts. His hands were on her hips, tugging the skirt of her dress up higher, exposing more silk-clad thigh.

“Pacey.” Her hands slipped down, ostensibly to push her skirt back down, but instead running over his muscles, only somewhat hidden by the material of his jacket. Her skirt around her hips, Pacey let his hand move to her pantyhose, tugging them down with one hand as the other struggled to unbutton the front of her dress.

She started to push him away as he finally freed the first button, freezing as his lips met her skin, moving over flesh like warm, lazy honey. She shuddered and attempted to push him away when his other hand pushed her panties down as well and slipped between her slightly parted legs.

Pacey continued kissing her, letting his lips stray downward as his fingers wove through the dark tangle of hair to find the warm wetness surrounding her clitoris. He mumbled against her skin, whispering apologizes wet with tears as he touched her, stroked her, teased her. Joey shivered and whimpered in response, leaning back against the door in an effort to remain standing.

Forcing himself away from her flat stomach, Pacey stood and leaned into Joey, his body flat and hard against hers. His fingers still flickered over her clit as his palm cupped her, his other hand now curved around her breast.

Without a word, Joey’s hands moved down and unfastened his slacks, the zipper loud in the quiet of the room. Her mind refused to process facts, refused to see that they were in the main room of the B&B, that someone could walk in at any moment. All she could focus on was the emotions he was fueling inside her, the rawness of his need. She pushed the material away then tugged down his boxers, wrapping her hand around his cock as she freed it, guiding him between her legs.

Pacey removed his hand as Joey urged him toward her, using it to lift her body slightly as he slid inside her. She was wet and hot; her body tight as he entered her, penetrated her. There was something untamed about being inside her, and Pacey couldn’t help but thrust hard, burying himself as deeply as he could.

He held her there, pinned to the door of the B&B, the curtain that covered the window surrounding her like a veil. She slid her legs around his at the knees, bringing him crashing closer, unable to move away, unable to do anything but push deeper.

They didn’t speak, relying on the muttered sounds of flesh meeting to say everything, not knowing the words that would disguise what they were doing. Pacey buried his face in her neck and inhaled her, refusing to look at her as he tangled his hands in her long straight hair, tugging at the strands as he pushed into her, thrusting, grunting softly, growling with satisfaction as his muscles tightened and he came inside her.

Their movement apart was punctuated with a sticky wetness, damp from sweat and sex and guilt. Pacey blinked rapidly as if in shock as Joey looked down at herself. Her dress was unbuttoned to the waist; a halo of material, bunched up and wrinkled. Her pantyhose were tangled around her knees, the tan fabric topped with the creamy silk of her panties. Her hair was a wild mess, artfully arranged by his roving fingers. “I should get cleaned up.”

He nodded, looking around the room, looking now at anything but her. Without a word, he stepped forward and swept her off her feet, carrying her toward the back of the house and into her old bedroom. Setting her down, he backed away and into the door. With a start, he quit moving, turning and shutting the door instead. “I’m sorry.”

Joey kicked off her shoes then did the same with her undergarments. “I’ll be right back.” She smoothed her skirt down and clutched the top half of the dress together before disappearing into the adjacent bathroom.

“I had no intention of doing that.” Pacey paced the small room, berating himself under his breath. “Jesus Christ, Witter. You just buried your wife and you’re banging away at your ex-girlfriend…your ex-girlfriend who is involved with someone else – in a matter of hours. How fucked up are you, exactly?”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to.”

He stopped and turned around, facing Joey in surprise. “You did? I mean…I didn’t?”

“No.”

“Andie hasn’t even been gone two weeks, Joey. How could I do that? How could I do what we just did?”

She walked up to him, her hair straightened once more, her dress looking nothing like she’d just been ravished. “Sometimes there’s this rush of emotion when there hasn’t been any in a long time. It’s hard to deal with. And it doesn’t always get dealt with the best way.” Touching his arm, she smiled shyly up at him. “You’ve been numb, Pacey. And now…now you’re not anymore.”

“It wasn’t fair to you. Or to Andie.”

“Andie’s gone, Pacey.”

“I know.”

“It’s okay to be sad.” She squeezed his hand and stepped forward, kissing him lightly on the lips. “And, more importantly, it’s okay for you to still be alive.”


	15. Chapter 15

“I think I liked the purple better.”

Jen looked back at Jack who was sprawled out across her bed and shrugged. “You don’t think the lime green and sickly yellow go better with the spring wardrobe?”

“You see, they’re just not your colors. You need something more vibrant. Blondes shouldn’t wear orange or yellow. I read that somewhere important.”

“Maybe the knowledge is just innate. It comes with being gay.” She moved away from the mirror and sat on the edge of the bed, her hand automatically going to his hair, her fingers running through it. “It doesn’t show too much, does it?”

“No one mentioned it at the funeral.”

“No one mentions stuff like that at a funeral, Jack.”

“They do in Capeside.”

“Nah. They had too much to talk about already. I mean, a suicide with no note, Dawson actually having a girlfriend, Pacey walking around like a zombie…I was nothing important.”

Jack rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. “No wonder we’re all screwed up coming from that town, huh?”

“No doubt.” Jen lay down, her head toward her feet as she looked up at the ceiling as well. “Now that it’s over, how are you?”

“Better.” He was quiet for a minute. “I did what you said.”

“There’s a shocker.” She turned her head and looked at him. “What’d I say?”

“I started seeing a counselor.”

“Well, that was good advice.”

“It was.” Jack laughed softly. “I was always the normal one in my family after Tim died, you know? I mean, I didn’t lose control, I didn’t become emotionally distant. Sure, I acted out a little. Everything got turned inward and it came out whenever I tried to do something that required a little grace.”

Jen laughed. “I remember you were quite the klutz.”

“And I seem to recall you weren’t little miss graceful when you gave waitressing a shot at the Leery’s.”

“But Andie’s death…I didn’t know how to deal with that.”

“I gathered.”

“It’s not so hard now. I mean, it’s hard. It’ll always be hard. Not knowing why or if we could have done anything to prevent it had we know there was something wrong.” Jack sighed. “But I’m not as scared that I’m going to end up facing the wrong end of a razor blade as I was before.”

“I won’t let you ever end up like that, Jack.”

“I know.” He grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “I want to make it all up to you, Jen.”

“There’s nothing to make up.” She raised herself up on one elbow and smiled down at him. “You’re my best friend. If I can’t be your whipping girl from time to time, what good am I?”

“It’s not that.” He sat up and looked at her seriously. Jen sat up as well, meeting his level gaze with her own. Jack leaned forward and kissed her softly, his lips firm on hers but not demanding. “I want to make the other night up to you. I want to make it right.”

“Jack.” Jen pulled back, pursing her lips together as if to capture the kiss between them. “There is no making that night right. Because you and me? We’re not right. I told you that in high school and I meant it. I just wish that I’d…I wish I’d had the strength of will to have never let the other night happen.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.” She touched his lower lip with tender fingers. “You’re my best friend, and the one man I’m going to love forever. But Jack, you and I are never going to be anything more than that. I would love to live out all those fantasies I used to have about you, but doing that would require one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“For you to want me.” She smiled and bit her lower lip. “And you don’t. Mostly because I don’t have a penis, but for other reasons as well. And it’s okay. Because when it all comes down to it, I don’t want you that way either.”

“Yes you do.”

“Okay, I do. But not at the risk of losing my best friend.” She leaned forward and kissed him again, relief flooding through her as she realized she felt nothing more than comfort. “Now, tell me more about your therapy.”

**

Joey sat on the hood of Pacey’s car and stared up at the two story white house. It looked empty. Hollow. “So has anyone been in to clean?”

“The carpet people came and replaced the carpet the other day.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s probably still sort of a mess though. The police and the ambulance workers. I don’t remember much about the day I left, you know?”

“Yeah.” She looked over at him and smiled, noting his nervous movements as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“I figure she’d want the stuff donated to charity or something. That seems very Andie-like, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” She slid off the hood and held out her hand to him. “Come on.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. We’ll do it just like we discussed. You start in her office and clean out any incidental stuff the school might need. After that you go through the bills and all that stuff. I’ll be upstairs packing up her clothes and personal effects.”

“Don’t mix them up. I want to…I’ll want to go through the personal stuff later.”

“I know.” She tugged on his hand just a little. “Come on. We should get going.”

“Have I thanked you for helping me do this yet?”

“No. But I haven’t done anything yet, so it’s okay.” Joey forced him to keep walking, heading for the front door. “It’s what friends do, Pacey.”

“Does your accountant mind that you’re spending the weekend helping me do this?”

“I stopped seeing the accountant six months ago.” She held out her free hand as he fished the keys out of his pocket and handed them to her. “Not that you gave me time to mention it when you were being such a dick before.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s excusable behavior.” She unlocked the door and opened it, involuntarily taking a deep breath. She exhaled with pure relief as the scent of new carpet and glue assaulted her nostrils. “Come on.”

He followed her slowly, looking around as if everything were new and potentially dangerous. He let go of her hand and moved to the living room door. The room was almost empty, the furniture and incidentals shoved into the adjoining room and the new carpet laying thick across the floor. It was the soft white of worn cotton, not quite the same as before.

Especially since there was no bloodstain.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded, his eyes glued to the floor where she’d lain. “Not in the slightest. But…but I will be, I think.” He forced his gaze back to Joey and managed a smile. “I’ll be in her office.”

“Okay.” Joey stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly. “It’s okay if it gets to be too much. Just come find me and we’ll get out of here for a while.”

“Thanks, Jo.” He touched her ponytail, tugging on the strands of shining hair. “For everything.”

His words were thick with meaning, emotion. “It’s what friends do, Pacey.”

“Well then, thanks for being my friend.”

She nodded and moved away from him, her eyes speaking far more than words. “I’ll be whatever you need.”

He watched her walk up the stairs to the room he’d shared with his wife, staring long after she’d disappeared from sight before turning and heading into Andie’s office.


	16. Chapter 16

Joey closed her eyes and sighed, leaning back against the bed. The room was a jumble of boxes and clothes, piled high and sprawled over every available surface. For all her outer neatness, Andie’s closets and drawers had been a mess; no doubt some sort of parallel to her life. Next to her on the floor, there was a careful stack of papers and trinkets that Joey had found and placed there for Pacey to look through as soon as he was ready.

She wondered when he’d be ready.

It was stupid, she reminded herself for the millionth time since the funeral. He’d just lost his wife. The last thing he wanted, the last thing he was looking for was someone to replace her. He’d loved Andie. He loved Andie.

Sighing again, Joey bounced the back of her head off the mattress, trying not to think of him sprawled across it. They’d had sex. It didn’t mean anything. It was the heat of the moment and it was Pacey accepting the fact that he was alive. It was sex.

She slumped dejectedly against the bed once more, shrieking softly as it moved, sliding over a few inches. Getting to her knees, she turned around and pulled it back toward her. The top mattress slid a little and as she shifted it back into place, she noticed a sharp, hard edge protruding from underneath.

Andie’s journal.

Joey looked over at the door, standing open so that she could hear Pacey should he need her, need something. Chewing on her lower lip, Joey then looked down at the book in her hand. She really shouldn’t…

The last entry was dated the day Andie had died. Unlike the others in the book, there was a time written as well and it held Joey’s attention. Pacey had told her that he’d gone downstairs at ten in the morning but that Andie always got up at five. The entry was from eight.

__

I can’t help myself. I’ve tried so hard and I know it’s so wrong, but I can’t seem to help myself.

__

I realize how hypocritical I’ve been. I realize that I’m living a lie and I’m hurting so many people. I realize I’ve become the thing that I berated Pacey for so many years ago.

__

He’s a student. I’m an adult. I’m his principal. I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing. We shouldn’t be doing what we’re doing.

__

I got tested two weeks ago. It was negative. I’d never felt such relief. There is no way I could have gone to Pacey and told him if it had been positive. How could I look at him and tell him that I’d just killed him?

__

I went to him this morning. I went to him to tell him that it was over, that I couldn’t – wouldn’t – do it any more. I went to him and even though I knew it was wrong, that on today of all days it betrayed every vow I’ve made, I made love to him. We made love and I felt him come inside me and I cried. I cried tears that came from somewhere in my heart.

__

All the way home I cried. I’d wanted him so badly that I hadn’t thought, hadn’t cared. But on the way home, I realized what I’d done. What I’d let him do. What I’d done to Pacey.

__

Again.

__

Tonight’s our anniversary. He’s going to surprise me with my favorite dinner and then we’re going to dance in the living room under the white Christmas lights he’s going to put up today while I’m gone. Then he’s going to give me my present and he’s going to lead me up the stairs and he’s going to want to make love to me.

__

And I’ll have to tell him no. But I can’t tell him no. Because telling him no would mean telling him why.

__

And I can’t do that.

__

But I can’t kill him.

__

Which really only leaves me one choice.

__

“Joey?”

She closed the book quietly and grabbed her purse, stuffing it into the bag. “Yeah?”

“You hungry?”

“Ye…yeah.”

“Why don’t you come down? We’ll go out and eat and then come back and tackle the rest of this.”

She got to her feet and nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. She stopped at the door and looked back at their room. It looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane, destroyed. Patting the book in her purse, knowing its contents were safe, she shook her head and started down the stairs.

Not destroyed.

She’d make sure of that.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally started before my father was diagnosed with/died of cancer, so it didn't end up where it started. I don't even know where it meant to go anymore.


End file.
